Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1887-02-05
MARTINsBURG, W. va. SATURDAY, FEB

assure you, if she comes up like this,
night after night, to sing to you, there
will be all kinds of stories. No one re-
spectacle would employ her as dress
maker if she sets her cap at gentlemenih
The color rose in Richards face to the
roots of his hair. For one moment he
was too angry to speak, and the foolish
woman, taking his silence for sign of
consent, went ON archly: .'You are
throwing away all your chances with
Lady Eleanor. Yes, yes; l know she's
been in love with you ever since she was
child in the schoolroom; but you can't
expect this kind of thing to last forever,
and one day she will get tired refusing all
the great people who propose to her.
By this time Richard had recovered his
voice. ..All that you have said to me is
utterly false and untrue!" he cried, his
voice trembling with anger. Neither
Miss Wilson nor myself have ever enter
tanned for a moment the ideas you have
been good enough to impute to us. And
if people have talked, they have simply
done so because they are malicious and
coarse minded.
The little woman was now frightened
at what she had done. I'm sure only
spoke because l wished to spare Lady
Eleanor pain; anybody could see that she
cares for you"
Richard was beginning to deny this
story too, when suddenly he stopped.
Something within him told him that this
at least was true, though he had never
before known it.
The silly woman rambled on incohe-
rently, trying to excuse herself for med
ding. 'sOf course, it was running the
girl and l felt sorry for her-Miss Wilson,
mean. A girls character is so quickly
questioned, and then what remains?
couldn't bear to think of it!''
''Do you mean to say" Richard de-
manded, furious, ''that Miss Wilson's
reputation has suffered in the slightest
degree, or that she has been lowered in
the eyes of the world, by my fault?"
His opponent prevaricated, hesitated,
and then finally agreed that it was so.
She was SO terrified that she scarcely
knew what she was saying, and her one
idea was to e1cape from Richard, who,
erect before her, his handsome face still
handsomer with passion, and his angry
eyes fixed upon her, was ready, so she
declared, ''to kill her!"
There is only one remedy" Mr..
Feyne said, slowly; ~ must ask Miss
Wilson to be my wife. That Is, it APP
pears to me, the only way to put every
thing straight and he strobe out of the
room, leaving the wretched creature to
recover her senses. Without asking any
body's advice, without pausing to consid-
er, he proceeded to act on his blind i'm
pulse. It was pouring wet day; the
rain had been steadily falling all day and
the ground was sodden and the trees
dripping with moisture. The landscape
looked blurred and blotted, and the only
sound in the air was the regular, rhyth-
mic sob of the rain. Richard passed before
the hall windows, wrapped in the black
Spanish cloak that Lady Violet used to
call his 'conspirator's cloak" He heard
tap on the glass, and turned round to
see Lady Eleanor, who smiled and waved
her hand to him. Il wish you joy of
your wet walk" she cried laugh
ingly. Richard moved hastily away;
a sudden consciousness seized him
that this really was the woman he
loved. He had never realized it before;
now it was too late. He hurried down
to the little town and rang the bell at
Jenny's house. The little apprentice
showed him up into the parlor, where
presently Jenny, with a flushed and
startled face, made her appearance. He
went up to her, regardless of his dripping
cloak that was making puddles ON the
threadbare carpet, and began earnestly:
II am afraid, Miss Wilson, that you
have been annoyed by these abominable
reports and scandalous stories. He
paused, taking Jenny's bushes for a con-
firmation of his words. 81 am deeply
grieved," he went on, ''that any one
should have dared to make my name the
source of any discomfort to you, but if
you wish these stories can be silenced at
once. have come to ask you to be my
wife,
1t seemed to Jenny as if the room
reeled with her. For one moment, and
for one moment only, she hesitated. He
continued in faltering voice: 81 am
poor, as you know, but l would endeavor
to make you happy if you could be con-
. tent with the little that | can offer"
Then Jenny turned her honest eyes
towards him and looked him full in the
face. 81 have heard no slanderous re-
ports, sir" she said, with simple dignity;
sand even had heard them could put
an end to them. You have done me too
much honor. I could never really suit
you. You ought to marry a lady; and,
dropping her voice almost to whisper
'syou don't love me, sir; and / couldn't
marry any one who didn't. Ican't thank
you enough. / shall remember your
goodness to my dying day; but you must
excuse me, sir, and one day you will be
glad for what l have done. I"
The tears unbidden rose to her eyes,
but, courageous to the end, she made him
alittle curtsey that had, he felt, world of
grace and dignity in it, and left the ROOM
So the matter ended. But three months
after, when Mr.. Feyne and his bride were
spending their honeymoon in Hampshire,
they went for long ride over the downs,
and Richard told Eleanor the whole
story. She gave cry of surprise, and
then, putting her hand softly on his arm,
'tAh, Richard, y she said, .'don't you see,
she loved you too well to do you any
harm. and it was because she loved you
that she refused your" Annie Fellowes,
in Leisure Hour.